Song of the Fell Hammer

by Shawn C. Speakman

  With the small peaks of the Chilbrook Mountains on either side of him, Sorin caught Thomas looking back over his shoulder the way they had come. It had been the fourth time the old man had done so that day, and each time he looked longer and harder into the distance as though trying to unwrap a riddle with his eyes.

  “Is something behind us, Thomas?” Sorin asked, worried despite Isere’s assurances the jerich was no longer after him.

  “I don’t know,” he answered, his eyes spearing through the pass at his back. “Tem, have you noticed anything odd about the forest behind us?”

  “No, but I can drop back and have a look. Have you seen some kind of movement or heard any sounds?”

  “No. It’s something more elusive, on the edge of my awareness as though not quite right. It’s almost like the hush of the forest at our own passing has been stretched out, like one of us has fallen behind and is trying to catch up. The normal forest sounds haven’t returned behind us as they ought to.”

  “Better to be safe,” Tem said, gathering his things.

  The Ward left them on foot, fully armed and as silent as the grass growing. The company continued on their way, but a bit slower to allow Tem the chance to catch back up.

  After long moments had passed, and it was clear Tem would not be returning quickly, Sorin turned back to Thomas. “Why did you come with me?”

  “You mean, why did I come with you when I hate High King Nialls Chagne and am disgusted with the All Father?” Thomas looked over at his companion with flinty eyes.

  Sorin nodded, afraid to say anything that would scare the old man from the topic. Instead, Thomas surprised him. “Despite my feelings for this trip and doing what Nialls asks, I also recognize the importance of what you have been asked to do. I’m not one to question whether or not the All Father exists—I know He does. But I no longer follow in his likeness nor those tenets laid down by the Codex—not after the brutal slaying of my family. You, on the other hand, would have gone, regardless of any advice I gave you. You are a lot like your father in that way—selfless and willing to help others, no matter the cost. I came to prevent you from suffering the same fate as my family. Although Arvel Westfall is gone, a promise to someone like him is a promise I intend to keep.”

  “You were really close, weren’t you?” Sorin asked.

  “We were,” Thomas acknowledged, plucking a maple leaf that hung in his way.”

  “And what about your brother? Why is there so much animosity between you?”

  Even though Sorin knew the question had probably irked the old man, Thomas showed no emotion. “It’s a difficult thing to understand, Sorin, as you don’t have siblings. I was the eldest and mine was the future mantle of First Warden. When our father died, I accepted my role with responsibility and honor. As happens with the younger brothers of a First Warden, Rowen was put through the same rigorous training I was, but was only given command of a battalion of the warden. He and I were close once and were very similar in beliefs, but there was always a sort of animosity at our relationship’s heart—a resentment he felt and I never shared. I was first born—First Warden to be—and he would never be more than the First Warden’s brother.

  “When my family was murdered, he was incensed that I planned to leave my role. He thought I should use it as fodder to destroy crime in the city and in the Kingdom. To him it was an honor to be First Warden, but he could never see it had led to my family’s destruction. All he saw was a brother who dishonored his entire family.”

  “That pains you, even now,” Sorin noted.

  Thomas shrugged. “I’ve thought a lot about the argument he and I had upon my return. That was the first time I’d seen him in fourteen winters. My nephew is out there somewhere too, on the ocean. Rowen still hasn’t forgiven my trespass, but there will come a time—probably when he and I are much older—when we can settle our differences and be civil. Until that time, the resentment he feels for me will continue to drive a wedge between us.”

  Sorin caught movement behind them, and Tem reemerged from the forest, his face red from his quickened pace.

  “Anything?” Thomas asked.

  “I see nothing. If something is back there, sir, it is craftier than I am at keeping itself concealed. It is as you said: the forest is deadened farther back than it should be as though there is something unnatural within its folds. What it could be though is beyond my talent.”

  “Perhaps it fears us,” Sorin offered.

  “And perhaps it merely does not want to be seen,” Tem said.

  Thomas shared a look with Sorin, and Relnyn held his staff tighter.

  * * * * *

  Sorin sat astride Creek as the group came to the top of a hill filled with grass, wild flowers, and lazily buzzing insects. The company’s passage through the Pass of Vose went easily, the path a wide, crooked swath of level ground rather than a jagged climb through the mountains like Lost Pass. They had moved to the east side of the Chilbrook Mountains the previous day, and whatever was behind them had still not shown itself. The company kept two people at watch during the night, and while they traveled one of the Wards lagged behind to raise a warning if necessary. The weather had remained sunny and warm, and Sorin—after almost two weeks of constant traveling—had toughened to the point that he was no longer pained in any way by the hardships of the road.

  Far below the meadow’s expanse, a stretch of sparkling silver meandered its way through the forested countryside like a snake, its track fading into the rolling hills of the southwest. Near his vantage point, a town had grown up on the river but there was something odd about it Sorin could not quite place. Smoke crawled up the air in thin ribbons, the buildings were square and made from strong timbers, a wooden pier jutted into the river with several boats tied to it, and a wall built around its perimeter kept the forest from invading the town’s space. The longer Sorin looked at it, the more he knew it was different from the Kingdom’s other towns.

  “It is the Issringe River,” Tem said, addressing Sorin’s curiosity. He had returned from scouting ahead as they decided what route to take. “We will follow it until we reach the Falls.”

  “And it is only there we can cross into Blackrhein Reach?”

  Tem nodded as the group began its downward trek to the forested lowlands once more. “The Reach sits on an enormous plateau here in the southland. People believe giant slabs of ice cut the land apart like a shovel and it was here they stopped, leaving the land beyond an unblemished world of its own. Once upon a time, before the War of the Kingdoms changed everything, Blackrhein Reach had its ancestral seat in the fertile lowlands to the north of the Pass of Vose on this side of the Chilbrooks. The Reach’s destroyed capital still sits there, ruined blocks of stone and nothing more. You see the town down there?” Sorin nodded. “That is Birn. On the southwestern side of the mountains is another town called Sokern. Both towns are warden garrisons created to protect the Kingdom from possible invasion by Blackrhein Reach.”

  Sorin realized what had bothered him on first viewing—the size of the town’s protective wall. It was as tall as the buildings within. No Kingdom towns Sorin had ever seen before had walls that thick and high. It was protected out here in the wilderness, but it was due to its proximity to Blackrhein Reach that made the defensive nature of the town a necessity.

  Sorin thought back on what Thomas had told him days earlier. Somewhere out here in the wilderness, outposts were constructed and left unused. He wondered if they would come across one; he wondered how Thomas would react if they did.

  Tem left once more, and the company moved south. They kept to the west of Birn and the Issringe River, Thomas not wishing to arouse the suspicion of the town’s garrison leaders. The land was forested and ancient, fir and cedar trees growing so large Relnyn probably felt more at home in their midst. Signs of deer, elk, and other woodland animals were plentiful and birdsong twittered safely in the canopy above them. By the end of the day, Nathan found a crossing where the Issringe was wide and sha
llow, and once they crossed to the south bank of the Issringe they camped within a nearby valley for the night.

  The next morning, as the sun sent its golden, infant rays to dispatch the gloom of night, the group rode from the valley and was met by a scene Sorin would never forget.

  In the southern distance, a wall of solid, gray rock rose from the depths of the world as though pushed from below and spread east as far as Sorin could see. It was massive and inescapable—a natural phenomenon of immensity no human hands could ever hope to duplicate. Tall evergreen trees—their conical appearance obvious even from that distance—lined the top of the plateau like pointed merlons on the battlements of a castle. It was a defensive marvel that could never be overwhelmed, and Sorin suddenly understood why Blackrhein Reach had never been penetrated and would forever be protected from the likes of the Kingdom or any other foe that attempted to overcome the wall with brute force.

  The only break in the immaculate line of stone was a series of waterfalls so close to one another they had nearly become one. White water rushed from the heights and fell in a cascade of angry motion and rising mist while small rainbows faded in and out of existence as the sun tried to catch the Falls. Sorin could not make out where the waterfall crashed, but he imagined the land beneath it had been obliterated to bare stone from centuries of plunging wrath. Although they were another day’s ride from it, the sound of pounding water reverberated in the air, a constant, dark hum never completely leaving the ear.

  “The Falls,” Thomas said. “It is there we must find our way into Blackrhein Reach.”

  Relnyn looked at Sorin and shared a thought; even to the Giant, the wall was enormous.

  The closer the company got to the Falls, the stronger the sound of thunder became, until the wildlife was hushed into submission and the world no longer could create its own sound. In the middle of the afternoon, they rode close enough for Sorin to see that the Issringe River joined the waterfall’s cascade and together both rolled west through the Chilbrook Mountains and the lowlands beyond.

  As the Falls fascinated Sorin, he almost did not notice the group had come upon ruins.

  It was a derelict structure, made of stone and wood beams, its innards overrun by the voracious vines that gave no respect to man’s endeavors. The walls were short, stout, and still intact but the roof had surrendered to harsher climes and caved in long before. Two wooden buildings on either side of the tower—stables and a smithy—remained near enough to the sturdy walls that the elements had been unable to destroy them completely. The stone looked new and barely weathered, with only faint splotches of moss growing on the exterior. If Sorin did not know any better, he would say the tower was built and left to its own corruption, one more example of humanity’s capacity to create and ultimately forget.

  Thomas took one long, hard stare at it before turning to the group, pain etched deep in the lines of his mouth and haunting behind his eyes. “We will remain here until nightfall, giving Nathan the rest of the afternoon to scout the Falls and ensure we are alone here. We don’t want to attempt the Reach and leave our backsides flapping in the wind for anyone to come upon. That would end this foray right quick.”

  Sorin relieved Creek of his saddle and then settled in with the others next to the ruins of the tower. Nathan disappeared into the wilds near the raging Falls, armed with a short sword, dirk, and a small axe. From what Sorin could see, there was a path located at the bottom of the waterfall—the stone having worn away before centuries of onslaught—that snaked up the immense wall to the Reach above. He knew conditions would have to be right for them to ascend and remain safe.

  Near sunset, with the light fading in a swirl of orange and pink in the west, Nathan returned to the ruins.

  “The gate of the Morliun Tower is open,” the Ward said to Thomas. Whether he liked it or not, the old man was First Warden again in all but name. “The path is clear.”

  “That sounds fortunate,” Sorin said.

  “It isn’t,” Thomas replied. “It means men from the Reach are in the Kingdom.”

  Nathan nodded. “There were three such groups roaming the forest at the Falls’ base. I crossed the river and followed one to Sokern where the scouting party just watched from a distance. If I were to gamble, I’d say they were measuring the city’s defenses.”

  “Are there still three groups out of the Reach?”

  “No, I saw two return. The third could be anywhere.”

  Thomas’s eyes darkened. “It is a risk we will have to take. The danger is obvious, but our chances improve dramatically if we wait until nightfall and pray the gate is still open. If it is not, we will have to wait another night or two.”

  The company gathered their things once more and set out toward the Falls. The slope of the land gradually fell and the forest thinned. With dusk settling firmly around them, they reached the edge of the trees to view a gently rolling carpet of dark grass expanding out for hundreds of kingsyards before meeting the river. At the heart of the tributary, the Falls glowed silver in the failing light, a swath of iridescence. Although Sorin was on Creek, he could feel the ground shake from the force of the water meeting the land. He was awed anew at nature. The Falls had been there long before Sorin had come into the world, and they would be there long after.

  They kept to the tree line as long as possible, and Sorin stayed alert and ready for anything. In the failing light, a pathway snaked up the left side of the Falls and weaved up toward Blackrhein Reach. The closer Sorin got, the more anxious he became, the Ward’s news of a third party in the darkness with them a constant invisible threat. For the first time, he felt how truly difficult their task was. It was daunting just to overcome the Falls. What else would be waiting for them when they reached the top? He did not know, and the dark uncertainty gave life to his fear in a way no foe in the flesh could possibly give.

  The group ascended the twisted pathway along the Falls grudgingly. It was not an easy trip. The wall was taller than the Sentinels in Lockwood had been, and the pathway was steep, made of solid rock made slippery by the constant mist. Sorin was quickly damp. Creek shivered beneath him in the falling. The path was broad enough for two horses to walk side by side, and although he was not scared of falling, a sense of vertigo seized Sorin as he looked out over the Kingdom. The breadth of the dark land rolled out from the wall and became small, and the pale winding of the Issringe as it vanished into the west. It was a marvelous view—even at night—and it comforted him while he ascended higher than he would have preferred.

  As they neared the top, the pathway leveled and the dampness disappeared almost entirely. Peering around the bulk of the Giant, Sorin saw a tower rising into the night, stark against the star-littered sky on the cliff edge of the wall. A faint orange light glowed from several of the upper windows. As Sorin moved closer, he saw the tower did not stand alone; it was attached to a small, stone fortress that could possibly hold hundreds of men. Extending from the tower to the banks of the river was a wall of high proportion and a wide hole gaping at them where the gate should have been. There was no way around it; the rippling water of the river ran on their left, and leapt from the top of the wall to crash below.

  No one seemed to be around. The path beyond the fortress was open and inviting.

  Thomas gestured the company to hurry forward, the clanking of their gear drowned out by the Falls.

  They were nearing the entrance to the open gate when cries of alarm careened in the night behind them. Sorin turned to witness a group of hard-looking, bearded men charging forward with weapons drawn.

  The third scout party.

  “Go,” Thomas hissed, kicking his horse into motion.

  The rest of the company followed, the Giant keeping up with long strides, his staff tucked under his arm. Sorin stayed low to Creek, unwilling to look back, the open gate his only concern. They came toward the gate swiftly, but just as they were about to rumble through, a half-dozen men appeared, brandishing weapons of a wide variety.


  The horse Thomas was riding rumbled through the opening, and the old man maneuvered it at the men with a fearsome challenging cry. The impact of the barreling animal sent the men scurrying, their line broken. The horse reared, fighting the armed men with its hooves while Thomas sliced at his adversaries with his sword. Several of the guards went down, dead before they hit the ground. Nathan and Relnyn continued through the gate, and Sorin and Tem followed, pushing their mounts through to the open road in front of them. They had broken through.

  Gaining some distance, Sorin looked back, hoping to see Thomas galloping behind them to catch up. He was not. More men had poured from the tower like ants, attacking the intruder, but they were too many for Thomas to withstand alone. His horse went down then with a spear shoved deep into its chest, taking Thomas with it. As the beast fell backward and crashed to the ground, the former First Warden rolled away to safety, avoiding the crushing weight of the animal and raising his sword again.

  “Ride!” Thomas shouted, moving away from his manic horse to make a final stand.

  Sorin had reined in Creek and was about to start back when Relnyn charged into the fray. With a shout of rage Sorin had never heard from the Giant, he thundered into the midst of the Reach’s guards before they got to Thomas. The men hesitated as Relnyn sent his staff whistling through the air in a circle, knocking swords, spears, and other weapons away. With their numbers growing the longer the conflict lasted, the guards from the Morliun Tower began to surround the pair, and leaded crossbow bolts and arrows were fired from relative safety.

  Relnyn moved Thomas behind him and jammed his staff with both hands into the ground. Light flared along its length, filling the sky with flickering white. The projectiles aimed at them bounced off of it, unable to reach the Giant and old man, and confusion reigned in the ranks of the Morliun men.